


hydrangea

by waitshoot



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: F/F, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26988040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitshoot/pseuds/waitshoot
Summary: flowers never were jinsol's thing.
Relationships: Jung Jinsol | Jinsoul/Kim Jiwoo | Chuu
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	hydrangea

flowers have never been jinsol's thing.

the scent unnerved her. they don't smell like anything she's ever liked, and they stuck to her nose like an annoying loose string hanging on her clothes, and most of the time she ends up rubbing her nose red, her patience nearly non-existent. don't even get her started on how the fragile things wilt within a day no matter how much time she takes out of her day just to take care of them.

it's come to the point where jinsol spitefully emptied out an entire liter of water on a vase of amaryllis. needless to say, she had ended up regretting her actions afterwards, anxiously pressing a towel on the soil in a panic, ignoring the dirt smearing on the immaculate fabric.

the amaryllis still died the next day.

maybe jinsol really just isn't one for flowers.

oftentimes, jinsol would end up thinking about her seemingly congenital misfortune with plants, looking at her hands, her mind floating elsewhere—to bright smiles and dirtied aprons, dim lights and bell-like laughter.

things jinsol shouldn't be thinking about anymore because like the scent of flowers it leaves an indescribable taste in her mouth, her throat dry like the memory had sucked out the words she should have been saying in the middle of her meeting.

her boss, sooyoung, simply looked at her with eyes that jinsol despised so much. the sight of it had jinsol's teeth sinking in the insides of her cheeks, the slight throbbing pain allowing her to shift back into focus, new words blooming between the ones that died in the back of her tongue.

vaguely, jinsol thinks about jiwoo and her blinding smile, bright enough to drown out the words that died in hers.

sometimes, jinsol thinks of bright eyes that glimmered with everything but sadness, and how they looked when jinsol let words slip out of her lips in a fit of rage, the burn caged in her ribs pushing venom out of her lungs. if it's a desperate attempt to get rid of the pain, if jinsol did it because she had been too weak to resist it, she isn't sure. 

maybe jinsol let her demons out because they were starting to get comfortable in the confines of her mind and she needed them out because she couldn't handle it. and jiwoo, with her perfect smile and pure intentions, was the kind of victim jinsol had unwittingly craved for.

or maybe it was because jiwoo fiddling with her hands, and asking jinsol for time to let things fall back into place because they just weren't the same anymore, they just didn't let her breathe as freely as she did anymore—maybe it was because jinsol's decaying mind just couldn't handle the truth behind jiwoo's words.

the pure, unadulterated truth that it wasn't working not because jiwoo didn't feel the same, but because there's something wrong and jinsol knows it, jiwoo knows it, they both know it but jinsol's the only one who can fix it and she doesn't know how to.

jinsol never really knew anything.

jiwoo knew jinsol like the back of her hand. how jinsol had a hard time sleeping if she had a presentation the next morning and turned to coffee to send her nerves into overdrive instead of seeking calm, how jinsol would wear her blazer with just one button pulling it togetger because any more than that and jinsol would feel like she's suffocating, and how jinsol keeps buying plants from heejin's flower shop simply because it gave her more time to see jiwoo.

from jinsol's weirdest morning habits like squeezing her pillow right after waking up to her favorite food combinations—jiwoo knew it all.

and jinsol—

jinsol only knew jiwoo's smile and jiwoo's tears, nothing more.

because jiwoo's never been one for details. always pushing, never pulling jinsol's hand to let her have a glimpse of what's behind them. never taking jinsol's hand, really, just walking to the distance and turning around to wait for jinsol with that same smile on her face.

at some point, jinsol loathed it. she loathed how bright it was. she loathed how it rendered everything else useless. she loathed the way jiwoo smiled because it's ever-present in both her dreams and her reality, because despite how jinsol hates the way it never wavers she also loved the way she can turn to jiwoo and find her waiting with open arms.

just waiting.

never pushing or pulling.

just waiting for jinsol to come through. to walk in her own time and maybe it's because jiwoo knows jinsol to the depths of her heart, seeing through enough of her eyes to know that jinsol liked staying where she was, regardless of how the water would rise to her knees, the words she swore sinking to the bottomless pit of broken promises that kept piling up no matter how much jinsol tried to bring them to life.

jinsol never really was anything, but she was good at trying.

jiwoo never tried.

sometimes jinsol wonders she should've let the flowers grow on their own. would they die in their thirst, she thinks as she watches the ripples in the coffee in her cup, or would they somehow be enough of something to live for another day?

jinsol never knew the answer.

jinsol never had an answer, anyway.

"do you still think about her?"

jinsol looks up from her mug, eyes meeting heejin's, and she has half a mind to snap at her just to distract herself from her thoughts.

a stare is all she gives in return. heejin holds her gaze, then she nods, a sigh spilling from her lips. "alright, i won't ask again." 

it's the fifth time she'd asked jinsol the same question in a day. 

jinsol only gives a curt nod, eyes straying from heejin's searching ones, the dull pain in her wrist making itself known in vague throbs.

mayne she shouldn't have written ten pages of a diary entry in one go.

though, she never really kept one page. all of it, she'd ripped because reading it felt too much. 

jiwoo always told her to let her emotions flow in her hands and everything would feel fine, that she would feel lighter, but when jinsol read her diary, she'd only felt empty, like she'd let her heart bleed on the pages instead and she'd lost too much blood to feel anything. 

it felt cold. 

it still feels cold. 

even now, as jinsol lies in her bed, her duvet pulled up to her chest, hands crossed on her stomach, jinsol feels ice slithering beneath her skin. almost like cold flames licking her skin, and it's funny because she shouldn't be feeling this way anymore. 

jiwoo's smile rid her of everything including her warmth, and jinsol would never have the heart to say it but perhaps, if only for a little, she blamed jiwoo for it. 

looking back, jinsol probably blamed a lot of things on jiwoo. 

if it was due to a selfish need for comfort, or because it actually was jiwoo's fault, jinsol isn't sure. 

but it's midnight and jinsol's been awake for more than 24 hours now and she should be tired enough to fall asleep for half a day at the very least but she's thinking about flowers and high-pitched laughter instead. 

jiwoo's skin never felt cold to the touch. she'd hold jinsol's hand, and jinsol never felt warm in her embrace either. 

jiwoo felt more like something in the middle. 

jinsol wonders if she pulled away because she wanted something warmer. 

just enough to soothe her thoughts in her sleep. 

but with jiwoo, jinsol had never been certain about anything. and maybe it's why jiwoo never felt as warm as jinsol wanted her to be. 

vaguely, jinsol wonders if jiwoo had ever wished for her to be warmer, too. 

if jiwoo wished for her to be something else. 

if jiwoo wished jinsol held her tighter than she did.

as the clock hits four, jinsol closes her eyes to thoughts she'd never say out loud. 

maybe she didn't have the heart to say it. 

just like jiwoo didn't have the heart to tell her she wasn't enough. 

when the clock hits five, jinsol's phone rings, and she reaches out to take it in her hand, the tremors numbing her nerves. 

jinsol's breath hangs on to the last second before five-thirteen.

"jinsol?"

she doesn't answer.

"i..."

she hears a shaky breath, and jinsol's eyes snap open. 

"i'm sorry for waking you up."

there's a breathy giggle. forced. jinsol wonders if she's still wearing the same blinding smile. had it dimmed down to something less? 

"it's really late, but... i just wanted to ask if you're okay." 

jinsol wonders what 'okay' should mean. did it even hold the same meaning for both of them? 

jinsol hears a tap, two, three, and then it stops, and jinsol's taken back to wooden tables and half-filled cups of americano, awkward atmospheres eased by a single smile and a random joke about giraffes. jinsol remembers the grin that made her cheeks ache, and she stops. 

wasn't that too warm? 

warm. 

when was that? 

"look, i," jiwoo pauses, the line buzzing slightly in jinsol's ears, but somehow, she feels jiwoo's hesitation cutting past her thoughts. "would it be too much if we tried again?" 

jinsol opens her mouth. 

the words that died on her tongue don't bloom the way she imagined flowers do.

her heart beats violently against her chest, but jinsol doesn't speak. heat spreads in her chest but she doesn't know how to stop it, it burns and it burns but she can't speak and every second is making it harder to breathe. 

"i see."

stuttered breaths. 

jinsol holds hers. 

"okay," jiwoo breathes. "okay."

the clock hits five-thirty and jinsol's consumed by thoughts of her once more. 

thoughts of her, but never her. 

blooming flowers dying at the tip of her tongue. 

flowers were never meant for jinsol, were they? 

flowers deserved more. 

jinsol had never been more. 

jiwoo was everything. is everything. 

jinsol remembers dark nights and silence, her eyes fighting sleep to watch the way the jiwoo's hair reflected the moonlight. she remembers thinking about how jiwoo's breaths sounded right beside her, her face buried in jinsol's sweater. 

jinsol's never slept the same since. 

because jiwoo had heaven in her heart, and jinsol... never deserved a speck of everything jiwoo was. 

even now, jinsol's ears ring with the nagging silence, her mind empty of anything but jiwoo's voice.

as if answering to the darkness, jinsol speaks. 

"jiwoo."

jinsol speaks in a whisper, because any louder and it would feel as if she's opened her heart. jinsol can't take that. 

and so she closes her eyes, thorns embracing the shallow beating of her heart. 

bright laughter still echoes in her ears. 

**Author's Note:**

> hi?


End file.
